


Pretty People

by anr



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-14
Updated: 2003-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three pretty people, all in a row...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty People

**Author's Note:**

> NOTES: Completely gratuitous porn with absolutely no redeeming values. You have been warned. *g*
> 
> BETA: yamadara and nandamai

It's a Wednesday afternoon in June when Jonas visits them.

"You expecting anyone?" Jack calls out curiously, looking over his shoulder at Sam. He's sitting on his dock with a beer in one hand, a fishing rod in the other, and the noise of the approaching vehicle sounds loud in the quiet balm of lapping water and buzzing mosquitoes.

"Um," he watches as Sam puts a spanner down before brushing a bang of hair from her eyes, leaving a small streak of grease on her forehead, "not that I--" An SUV coasts around the corner--hey, strategically clumped trees can SO be called a corner--and a bright grin cuts off her sentence. "Jonas!"

Double-taking just a little, Jack sets down his beer and rod, climbing to his feet as the vehicle--clearly a rental--slows to a stop. And, sure enough, it IS Jonas, the younger man stretching a little as he exits the car.

"Jonas!" calls out Sam exuberantly, leaving the porch quickly, and Jack can't help but grin as he watches the two reunite.

"Sam!" Meeting her last few steps, their arms wrap enthusiastically around each other as they hug hello. The Kelownan's gaze darts over Sam's shoulder to catch Jack's as he approaches. "Hello, Jack."

"Hello, Jonas," Jack says companionably, shaking Jonas' hand when the man's disentangled himself enough from Sam to accomplish such an action. "You're looking well."

"You too," he replies, smiling still, before chucking a finger along side Sam's temple, "if not a little greasy."

Sam 'oh's' silently for a second before grinning, unashamed, and Jack chuckles. "She's been elbow deep in the old generator all day," he explains on her behalf, before nodding to the rental. "What brings you up here?"

"Had some leave stored up--the Alliance," Earth and Kelowna, Jack translates automatically, "has been going well lately--so I figured I'd call in, see how everyone was."

Sam, it appears, can physically NOT stop smiling. "And how is everyone?"

"Good, good. Everyone on Base said to say 'hey', and I saw Teal'c recently. He and Master Bra'tac said they're planning on visiting later this month..."

Jack nods. "Yeah, T said they'd be here by July first, at the latest--"

"--with express instructions that we return to Colorado for their visit," Sam finishes, chuckling. Jack makes his requisite 'how can anyone not like my cabin' face, and Sam pulls away from Jonas to move to his side. He half-dodges her approach, turning her round so that her back's against his front, his arms linked around her waist and resting on her stomach. He can do without the inevitable grease and oil stains an embrace from her would engineer right now.

Ten to one, the back of Jonas' shirt is ruined.

"Seen Daniel yet?" Jack asks, rubbing his thumbs over her abdomen absently, and Jonas nods.

"Caught him on-base between missions a couple of days ago. We've plans to study some recent finds of his when we both get back."

Sam leans back slightly, her head resting on his shoulder. "Where's he at these days? Last we heard, he was going through the Mayan temples on P8T554."

Jonas nods. "He's still there. Found an underground network of tunnels and chambers--says the trove of artefacts in there could rival even that of P2P770."

"Wow," Sam murmurs.

Jack frowns. "P2P--"

"Halateia," Sam reminds him, and even Jack--who could care less about artefacts of any kind, on any planet--has to whistle appreciatively at this claim.

"Yeah," agrees Jonas, before glancing around quickly, "but what about you guys? I feel like I never see you two anymore--how's the retirement life?"

They shrug in unison, shoulders ricocheting in their embrace, but Jack knows their smiles are probably answer enough. "Good," he offers verbally.

"I still freelance, a little," Sam comments, "for the Base. And when we're in Colorado, I lecture at the Academy."

Jonas turns to Jack expectantly and he shrugs again. "I fish." When Sam snorts, he tightens his hold on her. "What? I do."

She snorts again and rolls her eyes. "He also lectures at the Academy every so often," she informs Jonas, obviously having no problems with ruining his reputation. Women. Sheesh.

"Yeah," he drawls, quickly polishing his now tarnished manhood, "between my hotdog courses and Sam's souffle techniques, we'll have America's best and brightest cooking like pros in no time."

Jonas laughs and Sam hits Jack lightly on one of the arm's banding her waist.

  


* * *

  


Jack doesn't actually INVITE Jonas to stay with them at his cabin and Jonas doesn't actually ASK if he can stay. Some offers, some questions, are better left unsaid.

What he does do is point Jonas towards the spare bedroom and tell him dinner'll be in a couple of hours.

"What are we having?" Jonas asks, setting his bag on the bed as Jack smirks behind his back, lounging against the doorframe. He was right--Sam's accidentally finger-painted the back of his shirt with oil; the fabric is ruined. "Fish?"

It's tempting to say, 'of course,' but that would be a lie. "Steak," he answers instead, dropping the smirk when Jonas turns around.

"Great, I'm starved."

"Me too," chimes in Sam, coming up behind him. A rag is wrapped around her hands as she tries to wipe away some of the grease and oil on her skin.

Jack rolls his eyes. "Fine," he grouses, "an hour then."

Sam grins and leans up to peck his cheek with a kiss. "Thirty minutes and I'll make dessert." With her foot she opens the bathroom door across the hall and backs into it.

"Forty-five minutes," Jack responds, "and don't use all the hot water."

The bathroom door shuts on the incredibly alluring--and extremely childish--sight of her poking out her tongue. Sighing, Jack turns back to an amused Jonas.

"Change your shirt," he not-quite-orders, "you just became my kitchen-hand."

  


* * *

  


Despite the bargaining process, dinner is a drawn out process and it's well after eight before the last dishes are washed and dried and put away. For almost four hours they've caught up and talked and laughed and, hell, even reminisced--somewhat--about a variety of subjects and missions and, you know, stuff.

It's fun.

Throwing down the dishcloth, Jack follows the other two out of the kitchen area. Sam immediately heads to the sofa, grabbing the TV remote on her descent to the cushions and flicking the box--his cabin is old, not backwards--onto some sciencey-looking documentary as she stretches across its length. Jack pushes her legs out of the way and sits at the other end, not at all surprised when her feet magically appear across his lap.

"I think I'll go for a walk," says Jonas, looking out the front door.

Sam, already engrossed with the program, mumbles something noncommittal. Jack offers a nodding/shrugging combo. "Don't get lost."

"I won't."

The door closes with a dull thud as he leaves.

  


* * *

  


When Sam's cell rings an hour or so later--Verizon long-distance coverage; she's so getting ripped off rates-wise--Jack's only a little surprised to realise that he's just as into the show as Sam is. With a groan she clambers up from the sofa, following the shrill cheep into the bedroom.

"Carter," he hears her answer, "Siler? Hey! How are you? No, no, I'm good. What's up?"

Work. He stretches out along the sofa and calmly rules out any possibility of Sam returning before the program's end. Absently, he wonders where Jonas is.

Twenty minutes after that, as the credits roll and a newscast comes on, Jack turns off the TV and heads into the kitchen. Coffees are made--one quietly handed to Sam as she babbles a mile-a-minute into her cell--and with the other two in hand he heads outside.

  


* * *

  


Jonas is sitting on the edge of the dock in Jack's favourite--and, ok, ONLY--fishing chair. Feet propped up on the empty cooler, a far-away look to his features. He's also facing the wrong way.

Aliens. Sheesh.

"Water's behind you," Jack points out, coming closer. He holds out a coffee to the Kelownan.

Jonas doesn't startle at his presence--obviously, he would have watched Jack coming towards him--but his gaze does snap briefly to Jack's as he takes the proffered beverage. A careless shrug rolls across Jonas' shoulders and his eyes flick towards the cabin. "Sam's not."

Automatically Jack swivels back to face the cabin himself and, yes, there is Sam. Well, sort of. In the curtained light of the main bedroom, a silhouette--which must be Sam 'cause, hello, there's only the three of them here--is clearly painted on the window.

He watches her gesture absently--wow, those cheap cotton curtains make quite the projector-like screen--as she paces the room and wonders, absently, if this is his cue to go all alpha-male on Jonas. 'My woman; don't you watch her,' and all that stuff.

"She's on the phone," he says instead, turning back to Jonas. "Something work related."

The other man shrugs again and Jack gets the impression that he doesn't really care WHAT Sam is doing: he's just happy to watch her. And alpha-male issues--or non-issues--aside, Jack can't really blame him. Sam-watching has always been one of his favourite pastimes too.

A comfortable quiet settles as they stand/sit there. Jack watches the water--another favourite pastime--and Jonas watches Sam.

"Think she knows?" comes the eventual silence-breaker, and Jack blinks.

"Knows what?"

"About us."

He shrugs. "Probably not. Sam's smart," he answers slowly, watching the water ripple and wave, "but not that smart."

"Hmm," Jonas places his coffee on the dock and stretches in the chair. Jack watches. Obliquely. "You knew."

Damned alien, thinks Jack, not unkindly. Can't we just watch... stuff... SILENTLY? "Knew what?" he sighs instead.

"About us. Sam and me, I mean."

Jack turns and gives him a slightly weird look. "So?"

Now it's his turn to shrug. "Sooo..." he hesitates. "I'm just saying. If you knew about Sam and me and I knew about you and Sam..."

"Then Sam must've known about you and me?"

Jonas nods. Jack shrugs. Wonders if it's possible for anymore 'yous' and 'mes' to enter their conversation.

"Anything's possible," he says eventually, in almost-contradiction of his previous statement.

"Anything's possible," echoes Jonas slowly.

Neither of them are watching their favourites anymore.

  


* * *

  


Sam's still on the phone when he and Jonas part company for bed. Man, he thinks absently, pulling off his shoes, that's gonna be one heck of a phone bill. He tries to remember if it was Sam who rang Siler or Siler who rang Sam.

When he climbs into bed and blows her a kiss, she smiles tiredly and mouths 'love you'. He returns the smile then rolls over, drifting off to sleep almost instantly; five syllable words are so much better than jumping sheep.

Then awakens several hours later--it's dark as all hell in the room, and he can't see the clock, but he figures it must be near dawn--to the feel of Sam's mouth on his cock. A twitch of sheets reveals as much and he scrubs a sleepy hand over his face as he smiles down at her.

"Hey."

A grin curls the corners of her mouth upwards and when she mumbles back the greeting, the reverberation of her speech along his skin is enough to make his eyes roll back into his head.

Extremely awake now, he reaches down and drags her up, flipping them so that she's pinned beneath him. She squirms a little, freeing her arms 'til they can link around his neck, and he sinks into her so very, very easily.

"God you're wet," he mutters into her flesh, pumping his hips slow and hard.

She arches against him, fingers fluttering over shoulders and digging into his nape. "Good dreams," she answers.

He grunts in response and sends a hand down her side to grasp her left leg, hooking the knee and forcing the limb to curl further around his waist. She moans, low and deep, and he drags his teeth along her collarbone.

"Shh," he cautions her, thinking of their guest, before finding her mouth and lashing at her tongue with his own.

She pulls away and stretches until her lips can find his ear, tugging hard on the lobe and hissing, "fuck Jonas."

Oh, the IMAGERY.

His other hand descends, pulling up her right leg, and with her open beneath him he surges into her with now reckless abandon. The bed thumps against the wall; fingernails tear across his shoulder-blades.

"Like that, like that, likethatgodlikethatohyeeesss..." her head tosses back and forth on the pillow and Jack knows that he'll never--NEVER--get tired of seeing her like this. Wild and incoherent and breaking beneath him.

Because of him.

It's a rush like no other.

He pushes twice more, and then again for good measure; choking out a groan and grinding hips desperately as he throbs within her. She twists in his grasp, angling her body to his, and then cries out breathlessly as his pelvis undulates over her clit.

Her orgasming? SO part of the no-other-rush package.

  


* * *

  


Diffused sunlight wakes him the next time and as he rolls over, stretching, he can hear Sam laughing outside. For a moment he just lies there, happy enough to listen to Sam's giggles and the murmur of Jonas' voice, but when his bladder prods him painfully in the side even he knows how to take a hint. Getting up, he pads to the window, twitching back the curtains to see Sam sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling, and Jonas treading water nearby.

He rolls his eyes--that water's gotta be, at most, sixty-five degrees; they're both freaks--and leaves them to it. He has to pee.

Thirty minutes later he's peed, showered and shaved, a mug of freshly-made coffee warming his hands as he heads towards the door. Once there, however, he stops.

And stares.

Technically, their positions haven't changed. Jonas is still treading water and Sam is still on the edge of the dock, legs dangling. Realistically, however...

His hands tighten around his coffee mug. Maybe that water ISN'T so cold.

Captivated, he watches as Jonas eats Sam out, his hands pressing against her thighs, opening her up as he licks and nibbles and sucks at all that soft inner flesh. One of Sam's arms is extended behind her, keeping her reclined balance; the other rests on Jonas' head, flexing and fisting against his hair. Her heels brush against his upper back, no doubt trying to pull him closer.

Jack prods at his inner-alpha-male but either the little guy is still sleeping or... he just doesn't care. His cock twitches in appreciation to this--impromptu?--show and Jack has a suspicion it's the latter.

Even from this distance he can still clearly--oh yeah, no glasses for him--make out his people. From the taut pleasure on Sam's face, and the tense arch of her neck and back; to Jonas' tongue, frenetically lapping up Sam's arousal.

Porn, he decides then and there, has nothing on real life.

Two minutes later, the show is over. He watches as Sam shimmies back into her shorts, squealing when Jonas splashes water at her. He says something--it's too low for Jack to hear--and Sam's squeals return to full-strength laughter. Jack takes that as his cue.

Exiting the cabin, he lets the screen door bang shut behind him as he walks towards them. Both turn at his exit, smiles wide in greeting.

"Is that for me?" asks Sam, meeting him halfway, hand outstretched towards his coffee.

He smacks her hand away, "not a chance," he says, loping an arm around her waist, "you can get your own." She pouts prettily but Jack refuses to cave and instead drops a kiss on her forehead.

"Jonas was telling me about Kelownan fish," she segues then, curling into his side, mirth in her eyes. "Apparently they're 'this big'." Her left arm extends comically and Jonas laughs, splashing more water onto the dock.

"Some fish," he corrects her, "some of them are."

Jack chuckles with them and lets Sam steal his coffee--supposedly without him noticing--as he nods towards the lake. "Better be careful, Jonas," he warns, "some mighty big fish in there too." Sam snorts as she sips his coffee and he tightens the arm around her. "Hey! No commentary from the peanut gallery."

An impish smile darts along her features. "Yeah, well--peanut'd be about the size of them from what I hear."

And they all laugh.

  


* * *

  


After lunch Sam begs off the woodsy-tour that Jack has offered to give Jonas, and instead returns to her half-destroyed, half-improved generator. "Just... don't blow anything up," Jack pleads as they back away from the porch, and Sam waves them on with a couple of rude gestures.

"Blow anything up?" Jonas repeats as they head into the trees, sunlight dappling the leaf-litter beneath their feet.

Jack sighs melodramatically, stepping over a sleeping garter snake. "Couple weeks back she tried to hook up some computer system--ended up overloading the cabin's generator."

"Ah," nods Jonas, "hence why you're letting her tear apart the old one?"

"Only so much rustic a guy can take, you know? When you're eating cold baked beans for the second night in a row because SOMEONE has fried your power supply..."

"... you need to find an alternate power supply for that someone to play with," Jonas finishes.

Jack nods. "Exactly."

They keep parallel to the lake for the most part, occasionally catching glimpses of the water through the trees. After almost an hour of walking they emerge into a very small clearing quite close to the shore. A fallen tree cuts the top of the clearing, and it's here that they take a breather, staring out over the water.

Jack wonders--a little absently, a little sharply--if Jonas would go down on him, like he did with Sam earlier, if he asked. Not that he WILL ask--he and Jonas just don't do that whole 'can I, will you, may I' thing--but the IDEA of asking weighs heavily. 

Then Jonas' shoulder brushes against his--accidentally? yeah, he doesn't think so either--and he gives up on the whole asking-issues deal in favour of just going with what works. And for Jonas and him, what works is simply DOING.

Kissing starts them off, even if they don't do it for very long--they never have; it's just not their 'thing'. Not that Jack minds. They've better uses for their mouths anyway.

Jeans are unbuttoned, shoes kicked off. At one point Jack is leaning against the tree, fingernails tearing at slowly decaying wood as Jonas brushes his jaw against Jack's thighs and licks at his rapidly hardening shaft. Quick, almost curious, touches at first. Then longer, slower tastes. Culmination has Jack buried in the warm cavern of Jonas' mouth, the younger man's tongue flicking against his flesh, teeth scraping just a little over the head on each pullback.

He moans quietly, eyes closing as his head drops down. His body pushes back and forth rhythmically. When Jonas reaches up to pin Jack's hips against the trunk, holding him still, he opens his eyes. Slowly, carefully, Jonas' tongue flattens and extends, allowing Jack's cock to slide deeper into his mouth. A few gentle thrusts--all at Jonas' dictation--then...

"God," he grinds out, teeth clenching, as his cock slips down Jonas' throat. So tight...

When Jonas starts to swallow, massaging his shaft in that way only deep-throating can really do, Jack knows his self-control is about to be utterly shattered.

"Jo-nas..."

The other man stops then, pulling away, leaving Jack on edge and about to explode. Probably in more ways than one. A quick fumbling ensues, the two tangling and rolling and twisting until they're on the ground, Jonas' lips once more wrapped around the head of Jack's cock, Jack mimicking the action between Jonas' thighs.

He tries to pay as much attention to him as Jonas had but the alien doesn't seem to want to go slow now. Already the soft kisses from Jonas' lips have transmuted into a fierce caress, the tip of his tongue fluttering against Jack's head. He responds in kind, sucking hard on the man's cock, stroking the shaft with tongue and fingers.

All too soon there's exploding and release and pleasure and--God, that feels so GOOD--a thousand other things happening that Jack doesn't think he knows the words for. They collapse in a sprawl of limbs, satiated and a little sticky; completely undone.

Another garter snake--or perhaps the same one--slithers along the edge of the clearing. Jack watches it disappear into the foliage and considers getting up. Getting dressed. Getting back to the cabin.

"Should we go?" asks Jonas, as if reading his mind.

Slowly Jack rolls to the side, leaves crunching underneath his back as he stares at the tree canopies above.

"No."

  


* * *

  


When they finally get back to the cabin, Sam's gone. A note on the kitchen counter, however, assures them that she won't be too long--she's just gone into town to grab some generator parts and dinner.

"PS," reads out Jack, "don't even think about it."

"Don't even think about what?" asks Jonas, moving to the fridge.

Jack shrugs. "Got me."

The two share a brief, puzzled look before Jonas turns back to the fridge.

Jack returns the note to the counter. "Pass me a beer?"

"Sureee--oh, wow."

Jack blinks. "Wow?" he repeats, dubiously.

Nodding, Jonas opens the fridge door further so that Jack can see what he's seeing. "Wow."

"Cool," agrees Jack, staring.

Jonas' head tilts with curiosity and a tentative finger reaches out towards--but doesn't touch--the clear glass. "How does she do that?" he asks, a little wondrously.

Jack shakes his head. "I have no idea."

"I'd've thought the colours would all mix together."

"Yeah."

They stare silently for a moment.

"We should probably..."

Not touch. Close the fridge. Back RIGHT away.

"Yep," Jack agrees, not moving.

Neither does Jonas.

"Think this is..."

For us. For dessert. For LATER.

They both look behind them, to where the note sits on the counter, and then at each other.

"Jello," sighs Jack, turning back to the glass dish with its red, blue and orange layers.

"Don't even think about it," commiserates Jonas.

The fridge is shut and they back away slowly.

"Sam is so..."

"Oh yeah. Definitely cruel and unusual punishment."

They're being ridiculous, and Jack knows it, but--hey!--it's JELLO.

Jello that they're not allowed to touch, taste, nibble or even, you know, EAT.

With effort, Jack shakes away this sudden--and silly--onset of food-depression. He needs a distraction; something--anything--that will keep his mind off temptation. "Wanna watch TV?"

And Jonas, obviously needing the same, nods quickly. "Sure."

  


* * *

  


Sam gets back a couple of hours later with an armload of groceries and a trunk full of generator parts. So while Sam and Jonas make a quick salad and reheat the fried chicken she's bought for dinner, Jack empties said trunk and does the nightly generator check.

All's well in Chez O'Neill.

After dinner--with jello for dessert--he sprawls out along the sofa, the latest National Geographic in hand, while Sam and Jonas clear the coffee table for a game--or dozen--of cards. Jack rests a hand on Sam's shoulder as she sits with her back to the sofa, his fingers absently playing with her hair, and a CD spins softly in the stereo, highlighting the rustle of magazine pages and the slap of slick cardboard.

He dozes off after awhile, waking a couple of hours later to the soft murmur of Sam and Jonas' voices with a crick in his neck and a cramp in his right thigh. They so need to buy a new sofa.

And he says as much, somewhat groggily, as he shifts onto his side, trying to stretch. Sam, still on the floor next to the sofa, turns at his voice and smiles.

"Hey," she says softly, "you're awake."

Jack groans. "What time is it?"

Jonas, lying on the floor near Sam now--the coffee table shuffled to the side; cards abandoned--smiles also as he answers him. "Almost midnight."

He groans again and gives up on the stretching, moving into a seated position. With his eyes closed, he promises, "I'll marry whoever gets me a cup of coffee."

A drawn-out sigh echoes, followed by Sam's voice. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

"Yeah," agrees Jonas, "loser gets up."

The two break out into laughter and Jack groans for a third time. "Oh VERY funny."

He opens his eyes when he feels Sam move, her body brushing his legs as she gets up and heads into the kitchen. Jonas is smirking.

"You do realise you just proposed to her, right?"

A grin carefully hidden, Jack shrugs. "I've done worse things."

  


* * *

  


How 'Jello Layering: The Carter Family Way' turns into a discussion of the movie 'Aliens', Jack can't quite recall. All he knows is that it's encroaching two-hundred and none of them seem particularly interested in bed yet. In his case, he's feeling pretty refreshed after his impromptu nap earlier on and as for Sam and Jonas, well, they used to be big on the all-nighters anyway.

"Found it," declares Sam happily, waving the cassette proudly as she returns all the discarded tapes to the cabinet beneath the TV. She inserts the movie into the VCR and hits play, crawling back to where Jack is now leaning against the sofa. He scissors his legs slightly and pulls her down between them, her back snuggled against his chest.

"So is there really a difference between the special edition and the original movie?" asks Jonas curiously, reading the jacket.

Jack grins. "Huge marketing ploy--no difference whatsoever."

Sam makes a noise of abject outrage and hits him on the leg. "I can't believe you just said that! Of COURSE there's a difference."

"Nooo..." he drawls, somewhat innocently. "Really?"

Sam hits him again and he captures her hands with his as Jonas looks on, amused.

"The special edition contains an additional seventeen-plus minutes of footage," she tells Jonas, "which are absolutely CRUCIAL to the overall plot."

"Crucial?" Jonas repeats, looking at Jack.

"Got me," he shrugs, holding tight to Sam's hands. "I only watch it for violence."

  


* * *

  


Despite the fact that all science-fiction movies lost their appeal right around the time he started working for the SGC, Jack has to admit that this is still one of his favourites. Hot, kick-ass woman; evil aliens getting blown to bits--what's not to like?

Of course, he's nowhere near as fanatical about the flick as Sam is; the woman borders quite dangerously on the edge of obsession sometimes. But--and fanaticism or not--it still comes as a surprise to realise that, while he's been engrossed in Ripley kicking some serious alien butt, Sam's been getting... turned on?

Eyes just a little too wide as she stares at the screen, breathing just a little too quick. Her hands--which earlier had gestured and fidgeted and all but clapped at every key scene and quipped one-liner--now rest lightly on the hem of her skirt, fingers curled and nails absently scratching at her skin.

Huh. Ok. Well, he doesn't remember THAT happening the last time they watched this movie. Or any other time.

His gaze slants from Sam to Jonas, where he lies on the floor nearby, but the alien appears to be just as immersed in the movie as he is--was?--and doesn't even seem to have noticed Sam's, er, state.

Ducking his head, he puts his lips to her ear. "Little hot, are we?" he whispers, a smile slowly starting to emerge.

"Just..." her tongue flicks across her lips, voice breathless, "shut up and touch me."

Oh he's SO gonna have to tease her about this later.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Unobtrusive little touches to start with; his hands running up and down her arms, as if warming her from a sudden chill. A subtle shoulder massage, as Ripley discusses where babies come from with Newt. When Jonas disappears briefly to the bathroom, Jack takes the opportunity to slip his hands beneath her t-shirt and Sam tilts her head to capture his lips in a harsh kiss.

"Stop teasing," she hisses against his mouth and he unfastens her bra just as Jonas gets back.

"Did I miss anything?" he asks, dropping back down onto the floor near their legs, and Jack shakes his head even as Sam replies that Burke's turned evil.

"Huh," ponders Jonas; then swiftly re-immerses himself in the movie.

Sam follows suit--kinda; she's facing the TV again, if nothing else--and leaves Jack to brush his palms over her abdomen, slowly moving his hands upwards until he's cupping her breasts. Her back pushes into his chest and she exhales jaggedly when his thumbs find her nipples.

Ripley and the remaining marines are killing aliens--again--as Jack fondles and strokes and pinches Sam's flesh. And Jonas is studying the special effects much too avidly when Sam starts to shift her body against Jack's in a way that soon has his jeans feeling way too tight.

You know, it's entirely possible he hasn't completely thought this through.

Shifting as well, he resettles their bodies into a slightly more comfortable position and then gives up on the pretence of watching the movie. His head drops and he finds Sam's neck with his lips; placing open-mouthed kisses up the column of her neck and sucking gently on her skin. He's probably leaving marks but he can't quite bring himself to care.

Sam moans--the sound thankfully drowned out by the fight scene currently showing on screen--and Jack leaves her neck in favour of drawing her earlobe into his mouth, teeth nibbling just a little. Licking, kissing, sucking; she moans again. Loudly.

Yeah, he REALLY hasn't thought this through.

A hand leaves her shirt to reach up, turning her head back towards him and he kisses her into silence. Her teeth nip at his lips, tongue lashing against his, and he's beginning to think they should make some completely lame excuse and take this into the bedroom. Yep, any second now. One lame excuse, coming right up.

Sam arches suddenly, body curling away from his, their lips parting audibly. "Yeeesss..." she hisses, panting, "oh GOD yes..."

A little surprised--hey, he's a good kisser, definitely, but even so--he lets his gaze pan the curve of her stretched body and...

Ok. NOT so immersed in the movie then.

Jack can't see Jonas' hand--Sam's still wearing her skirt, after all--but he knows, nonetheless, what Jonas is doing. Knows that the alien's fingers have curled around the flimsy barrier of Sam's panties and are now buried in that slippery, hot flesh. Pushing and stroking and pumping in and out. Thumb repeatedly brushing against an erect clitoris.

His mouth returns to Sam's neck as she gasps and shudders and moans; and while he sucks hard on her flesh, he watches Jonas watch Sam. Jack's free arm drapes across her abdomen, pinning her body to his. His left hand pinches and rolls her nipple between his fingers; cups the weight of her breast in his palm. And Jonas keeps fingering her; the two of them relentless now that discretion has flown completely out the window.

Ripley wipes out an alien race. Sam orgasms in their arms, skin flushing beautifully.

Oh yeah.

DEFINITELY one of his favourite movies.

  


* * *

  


It's fast becoming apparent--to Jack, at least--that this visit of Jonas' is even faster becoming one of unabashed gratification. And it's also becoming quite obvious that Sam is shamelessly orchestrating most of their assignations.

Not that he's complaining, mind you. Not at all.

"I'm going to bed," she says, pulling back from an extremely lingering kiss with Jonas that leaves the man somewhat wide-eyed and star-struck.

"Ok," non-commits Jack, stretching.

"Uh huh," mumbles Jonas.

Sam leans over to press a kiss on Jack's forehead, avoiding his hands when he tries to pull her down for something much more satisfying, and then leaves the room. They watch her go, small frowns appearing, and then turn back to each other.

"So..." hesitates Jack, wondering if Sam's little machinations--and performance--earlier have, well, frustrated the other man as much as him.

"So..." comes the echo.

Footsteps sound in the small hallway.

"I said," Sam announces, curling around the hallway/lounge room doorframe. "I'm going to bed."

It's difficult not to stare. And it's equally hard--oh MAN--not to make some pithy comment about her, um, state of dress. Or undress, as the case may be. And is. And--

"You know you're naked, right?" points out Jonas.

Ok, not so hard then.

"Yes."

See? Shameless.

Jonas nods. "Ok. Just checking."

The two men share a look, then return their gazes to Sam.

"Well?" she prompts, moving a hand to her hip in a way that is much too sexy. Really, it is. Naked, hand-on-hip, poses should be completely illegal.

"Well what?" manages Jack, mouth rapidly drying.

"Are you two coming or what?"

With a final raised eyebrow, she pushes away from the doorframe and exits once again. Jack and Jonas do the whole looking-at-each-other-curiously thing again.

"Kinda--"

"Presumptuous?"

He was going for sexy, but presumptuous works too. "--of her, doncha think?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely."

More looking.

"So," he decides, "we'll just sit here and..."

"Not give in to her delusions of control?" Jonas is getting awfully good at this sentence-finishing thing.

And he was her CO, for crying out loud. HE was HER CO. Not the other way 'round. So: "yeah."

Even more looking.

Jonas frowns suddenly. "And if she decides that us not giving in is ample reasoning for restricting any future, well, you know--FUN?"

Jack can--suddenly--picture this all too clearly. And it's not a pretty picture.

"We should..." he starts, gesturing towards the door. Jonas is likewise scrambling to his feet.

"Definitely."

  


* * *

  


Despite everything that has happened over the past few days and despite everything that is no doubt ABOUT to happen, there's some awkwardness as Jonas and Jack stand at the bedroom door. Sam, of course, either doesn't feel it or doesn't care to.

"So... what? We just all jump on the bed and start going at it like rabbits?" he asks, raising an eyebrow as he walks further into the room.

Seated cross-legged on the bed, Sam smirks. "Well... if that's what you WANT..." a hand is waved absently, "go right ahead."

He can't help it; he has to smirk back. "What I want? Oh I think we're talking about YOU here, not me."

"I agree," says Jonas, breaching the doorway as Jack sits on the edge of the bed.

And Sam, who's looking way too pleased with herself, shifts position until she's leaning back against the pillows. Jonas, following Jack's lead, seats himself on the opposite side of the bed and--like clockwork--the men both reach out to place a hand on her leg.

She shudders, noticeably, and stretches. "My wants are GOOD..."

"Very good," concurs Jonas, smiling across the bed at Jack.

"Oh yes, EXTREMELY."

Their hands trail along Sam's flesh idolatrously as they lean across the bed--and her--to kiss; mouths slanting and lips parting. Jonas moves into a kneeling position, switching hands on Sam's leg and using his now free left hand to reach behind Jack's neck, holding him in place for a plundering kiss that quite literally steals the oxygen from his lungs.

Jack breaks free reluctantly, gasping for air, but the other man isn't ready to relinquish him just yet. Almost immediately he's being kissed again, just as ruthlessly, Jonas' hand fisting in the short strands of hair at his nape. God, Jack starts to think, right before Jonas kisses all further thoughts from of his mind.

Right. No thinking. Gotcha.

He decides then to just FEEL and, from the sounds the others are soon starting to make, they've no objections to this plan of attack.

Like Jonas he moves into a kneeling position on the bed, immediately dipping his left hand between Sam's thighs so that any complaint she might have over the palm-switch is forgotten as he finds the damp, warm flesh of her cunt. Her body flexes, thighs tightening around his hand instinctively, and he decides to stay there, playing happily, for awhile.

His right hand, determined to play as well, finds Jonas' hip easily enough, fingers slipping between flesh and waistband teasingly. When he cups Jonas through the material of his jeans, the younger man thrusts reflexively into his palm and that's more than enough incentive for him to lower the zip and work his hand into Jonas' boxers.

Someone moans. It's a beautiful sound.

Lazy, indulgent minutes follow. In an imitation of earlier, Jack fingers Sam while Jonas strokes her breasts. And Jonas kisses Jack and Jack runs his hand up and down Jonas' cock until both of them have to pull away, fearing anoxia and release. Quick, urgent fumbling has all three fighting to get rid of Jack and Jonas' clothes and then Jack is between Sam's thighs, mouth replacing fingers, his tongue worrying its way up and down that reddened slit.

Jonas moves further up the bed, Sam pulling him closer and closer until she can take his cock into her mouth, tongue flicking along the shaft and mouth pursing around the swollen head. Jack pauses his own ministrations to watch, mesmerised by the sight of Sam's lips sliding over Jonas' cock. There are many things he will remember until the day he dies and this moment, he knows, is definitely going to be within the top five.

Hopefully with surround sound and digital mastering.

Sam pulls away from Jonas, her lips sheeny and wet, "don't STOP," she half-orders, half-pleads, looking down at him. And since it's physically, mentally and spiritually impossible for him to deny her ANYTHING, he obeys without hesitation.

Licking and tasting and jabbing his tongue into that slick hole. Sam's leg curls around his shoulders and tries to pull him closer--he's not sure that even possible, since he's already pretty damn close, but he lets her try anyway--as he moves to cover her clit with his mouth and suck on it hard.

Ok, that moan was Sam's. He's sure of it.

The mattress dips with movement, letting him know--without him needing to actually look--that Jonas has shifted position. Then soft lips caress the back of his neck and smooth, warm flesh presses against him... anticipation making him smile as he draws Sam's lips into his mouth and sweeps his tongue from clit to cunt. When hands that are just a little callused rest gently against his ribcage, he swallows hard and tries not to jump as Jonas' cock brushes wetly against the back of his thighs.

He knows Sam's close when her hips start to restlessly shift, when her hands reach down to grab his head, guiding his mouth this way and that way. Jonas' hands have moved down his sides and now grip his waist, urging him back onto his knees. He yields to both of them without complaint and is rewarded--hey, what else is he gonna call it?--when Jonas shifts against him again.

Oh.

Inch by achingly slow inch, Jonas slides into him.

Oh. GOD.

It gets to him, every single time. This feeling, this sensation, this knowledge that he's being cored and filled and--

Then he REALLY can't think--he's too full of Jonas, for a start--and he can't breathe anything but Sam and that's SO ok 'cause, right now, that's PERFECT and then suddenly Sam is starting to clench around his tongue and Jonas is in him COMPLETELY and Jack can't help it. He has to move. He HAS to.

The slight shift upwards is done carefully, Jonas pressed against him--and IN him--and his fingers are tight on Jack's waist as Jack takes Sam's hips into his own hands just as tightly and then yanks her down the mattress. She frowns as he moves her but then he's inside her, and Jonas is inside him, and--ohGodohGodohGod--this is just--

Sam goes first, her climax already in progress when he'd moved, and the way her body pulls him in deeper with each tremor, each shudder, is intoxicating. He and Jonas rock in opposition, creating a friction that makes his eyes roll back in his head and oxygen become one-hundred-percent overrated.

Then he's moaning and coming and kissing someone--he's not sure who--and still moving and, yeah. Oh GOD, yeah.

Dawn breaks and so does he.

  


* * *

  


As wanton as it sounds, looks, feels, seems and, ok, IS, they spend almost the whole day in bed.

Around midday Jack rolls over and wakes to the sight of Sam straddling Jonas, her eyes closed and mouth 'oh'ing' as her body melts around his cock. Slow at first, Sam is soon riding Jonas hard; their groins slapping together with every down-thrust. Jonas, of course, is not complaining.

Not content to just watch, Jack shifts closer, slanting his mouth over one of Jonas' nipples, his tongue flicking against the hard little bud. His right hand slips behind Sam to fondle the younger man's balls and when Jonas ends up biting down on Jack's shoulder as he comes, he doesn't complain either.

Then there's the shower at about... um, ok, so he's not sure WHAT time it is, only that Jonas is there too, and there's water and flesh and his erection is rock-hard as Jonas braces his hands on the wet tiles and Jack slips inside him. Water beats down, prickling already heated skin, and one of Jack's palms is on Jonas' waist, the other jerking him off, and the combination is so damn erotic that when Sam decides to have a shower only an hour later, both men follow her quickly.

And Sam--still machinating like crazy as far as Jack's concerned--has no reservations about pushing Jack up against the bedroom wall when Jonas goes to see what they can have for dinner. "I want you," she mutters against his mouth, her hips swaying double-time against his until he's hard again.

He moves them from the wall to the bed, spreading her out near the foot so that he can stand there, thrusting slow and deep. When Jonas comes looking for them, the Kelownan drops to his knees beside the bed and Jack leans back a little more as Jonas starts tonguing that juncture where Jack's cock slips in and out of Sam's cunt. The feel of his mouth, licking and sucking on his cock and her clit, makes for some pretty impressive orgasms.

Like he said: wanton.

  


* * *

  


A Saturday morning in June and Jonas is leaving.

Having placed Jonas' bag in the trunk, Jack slams the hatch shut, moving back around to where Sam's hugging the life out of the man. "Are you sure you can't stay any longer?" she asks, more out of routine than anything else--Jonas' leave is over and they all know it--as Jack leans against the side of the vehicle.

"What? And miss out on the fun that is trade negotiations?" Jonas drawls, running his fingers through Sam's hair. "Not on your life."

Smiling wistfully, Sam nevertheless nods and laughs in kind, raising her chin after Jonas presses a kiss to her forehead so that he can repeat the gesture properly. "But you'll come back soon, right?" she presses when they eventually break apart and Jonas smiles and nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Just as soon as I can," he promises.

Another kiss follows and--as much as he likes the view--Jack steps forward. "Alright, you two," he says, "break it up. Any more of that and Jonas'll never get outta here."

Sam pulls away with a pout on her lips and laughter in her eyes. "Yeah. And you look real cut up by the idea too."

Jonas smirks and Jack rolls his eyes. Cheeky much? Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulls her into his side. "Don't you have a generator to blow up or something?"

Obviously trying to hide a laugh, Jonas moves to open the car door while Sam hits Jack on the chest, a scowl creasing her features. "I can think of better things to blow," she retorts impishly.

"I'm sure you can," he agrees seriously, "but since Jonas probably needs another week of leave to recover from THIS leave, that ain't really an option now is it?"

"Going now," Jonas interrupts before they can really get started, and Jack turns away from Sam to grasp the other man's outstretched hand, shaking it warmly. "Goodbye, Jack."

"Yeah," he says, "bye, Jonas."

And then--because he and Jonas just don't do that whole hugging-and-kissing-goodbye thing--that's it. Sam grabs Jonas in a final, quick embrace and then the younger man is climbing into his rental and revving the engine. Side by side, Sam and Jack watch him leave, waving goodbye until the SUV has disappeared from sight.

"So..." says Jack, turning towards her.

"So," she echoes.

"I think I'm gonna," a nod gestures absently towards the lake, "go fish, for awhile; maybe catch dinner."

Sam smirks and starts walking towards the cabin. "You do that."

He watches her go. "What about you?"

"Me?" she clarifies, mounting the porch and opening the screen door, "oh I'm going to take a nap."

The door slams shut, obviously ending their conversation, and Jack turns to stare at his lake. Fishing it is then.

He's barely reached the edge of the dock when the screen door opens again and he looks over his shoulder to see Sam leaning against the door-jamb, a hand on her hip.

"You coming?"

A swift one-eighty is really his only option here, and he performs it artlessly, heading towards the cabin. She gives him a blinding smile as he approaches and he returns the expression so very, very easily as he breaches the porch.

"One question," he requests, following her inside.

"Yeah?"

The door closes behind them with a bang.

"You know you're naked, right?" 

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/36150.html>


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